bright
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Why did Molly Hooper ever agree to go on a date with Jim Moriarty? And why won't he leave her alone? Well, she's had enough. An experiment in a little bit of AU teenlock with no-nonsense Molly, creepy Jim and protective Greg. Part of my series of stories based on creative prompts for May. Many thanks for reading. There's a few f-words, swearing and bullying.


**For the prompt 'bright'. It started out as one thing and formed itself into something more as I wrote. I was inspired by the prompt to write about Molly at school and found I couldn't resist trying out a bit of teenlock with my two fave characters. There's some no-nonsense Molly and protective, flirty Greg. Many thanks for reading. Just to let you know - a few f-words, swearing and bullying.**

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_bright (adjective) - intelligent, quick witted; vivid or brilliant; clever or witty  
_

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'You hang out with the freak, don't you? What you wanna do that for?'

They were too close. And Molly was shorter than them; they only had to take a few more steps and they would surround her.

'The guy's seriously fuckin weird. You a freak as well?'

She'd have to go back, go the long way round. Sherlock'd be waiting.

_leave me alone, will you_

'You a brainy little freak like him, are you? Here, what you got in the bag. C'mon, show us, brainy freak.'

_go away, just go away _

She was supposed to be going through the biology coursework with him; that's how they spent their lunchtime. She turned away from them; there was no way they'd let her go past.

'Oh, no, I don't think so now, do you Molly?'

Jim. He stepped in front of her. Bastard. He'd been standing behind her the whole time, letting his little bunch of thugs hassle her while he watched. That was so his style, never get his hands dirty.

'Jim, please move...'

'But all we want is a tiny little peek inside your bag, Molly. That's all. You wouldn't mind that, would you?'

His voice, too calm, made her skin crawl. Jim wasn't like the others; they were just his stupid sheep. But him, he was weird, creepy weird. His eyes, watching her, were empty. Molly shuddered.

_go away, just bugger off_

'No,' she said, calmer than she felt, 'now please get out of my way.'

His face. That false smile, those blank eyes. Jim half laughed, and then narrowed his eyes at her.

'Oh, I don't think I'll be doing that, Molly.'

Her heart was hammering in her chest. Why did he do this? Because she turned him down? One date with Jim Moriarty was enough to creep her out. There was something about him, Molly had glimpsed it, inhuman and cold.

_why can't you just leave me alone!_

'Jim, just get out of my way.'

Surprised that her voice still sounded normal, she tried to calm her heart and stop her hands from shaking. She stepped to his left, but Jim smoothly moved back in front of her.

'Molly, this isn't how we do it, is it?' Even the way he said her name gave her the shivers. 'Go on, show us.'

'No.'

His eyes flicked sideways and Molly felt heavy hands on her shoulders. Shit. Trying to pull away but the hands were clasped hard. One of them grabbed her bag strap.

'No! You bastard.. don't you..'

Pulled back, her bag was yanked from her shoulder. Jim stood still, smiling, like a lizard. He was the freak. Dead eyes, dead smile.

'Don't you bloody dare!'

Reaching out for her bag as one of the thugs tipped it up, Molly was fuming as they dumped her books and folder and pencil case onto the lino floor.

'Oh, what, little miss brainy freak. Didn't you like that?'

_bastard, bastard, stupid thick idiot bastard_

Enough. Pulling against the hand on her shoulder, Molly elbowed the thug against the wall.

'Hey!'

He hadn't liked that. Making another grab for her, he shoved her back against the empty classroom door. 'Not clever, Hooper.'

Towering over her, the thug grasped her arm. Now she was pissed off. Who the hell did his pack of sheep think she was? An easy target just cause she was smart?

'Get off you idiot!' Ignoring the sharp pain against her arm, she kicked his leg.

'Oh, fuckin hell.' Letting her go, he fell away, grasping his leg. 'You bitch!'

'That wasn't very clever, was it Molly?'

His voice, chilled, made her feel sick. She turned to face him, clenching her fists.

'Wasn't it, Jim? You know what, I don't give a shit what you think. Just leave me alone!'

That nasty little smile crossed his lips, his head shaking. 'Now, now, temper.'

And the heavy hands were back on her shoulders. No, he wasn't going to do this to her.

'Oi!' Pounding footsteps sounded along the corridor. 'What the bloody hell d'you think you're doin? Let go of her!'

Distracted, their grip loosening, the thugs turned to the voice behind them. 'You gunna make us, hey?'

_stupid thick idiots_

And it was all she needed. Shoving the thug holding her backwards, he fell against one of the others. Pushing and shoving each other, Molly left them to it. Gathering up her books, she could hear scuffling and thudding against walls behind her. Several choice words exchanged between them, and then footsteps heading away, as she grabbed her pencil case.

'Damn it!' Its contents fell out, rolling across the floor.

And then Jim caught her eye. He stared, impassive, watching her. Then turning smoothly on the spot, he started walking away. Never got his hands dirty. Bastard.

'Where you fucking off to, Jim?' Molly knew that voice.

'Later.' The cold voice carried back up the corridor.

'Bastard.' A few more choice words. Then he was next to her, kneeling on the floor. 'You ok?'

She stopped snatching up her scattered pens; he was holding her bag out to her. He had lovely hands. Beautiful, lightly tanned fingers, to go with the lovely rough voice. And realising that she was staring, she quickly took her bag, ducking her head away.

'Thank you..sorry.. yes, I'm ok.. I..' She suddenly felt rather stupid in front of the handsome sixth former, fumbling to get her books back into her bag.

'God, he is such a fucking arsehole.. oh, sorry.'

Molly smiled. 'Don't apologise. I've called him worse.' Something about him there beside her made her feel a little calmer.

'You? Molly Hooper, the brightest girl in the fourth form, swearing?'

'It has been known.'

And he laughed, softly and deeply. He picked up the last of her pens, handing them to her.

'Thanks.'

She'd seen him and Sherlock talking in the corridors, smoking down the park, kicking about outside the chippy. Not that she fancied him or anything, honest! He was good looking and all that, and a nice kind of guy.

_oh god, I'm blushing. Shit, embarrassing. I don't fancy him!_

'You're friends with Sherlock, aren't you,' he said, hauling himself up off the floor, holding out his hand to her.

_his hand? take his hand?_

It'd be round the common room before the end of lunch. Molly Hooper holding Greg Lestrade's hand? How did she, the quiet studious swot, manage that? Getting up, avoiding his hand, she slung her bag back over her shoulder.

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. I'm Greg.'

'I know. Sherlock's talked about you... I mean.. god, sorry, I didn't..' Completely embarrassing.

'Has he? Good or bad?' Grinning, he winked at her.

Her heart jumped. Was he flirting with her?

_me? seriously not._

'All good,' Molly said, quietly, studying her boots.

'Really?'

She looked back up at him. Why wouldn't it be? 'Of course it was.'

And he smiled again, which only made his face even more handsome. Greg's eyes looked into hers and she couldn't look away. Such gorgeous brown eyes. Why did this guy not have a girlfriend?

_why am I even thinking that? He's a sixth former, Molly, a sixth former. Back to earth._

'Mind if I walk with you, wherever it was you were going?'

Did he just say that? The handsomest guy in the sixth form wanted to walk with her?

_calm, Molly, calm_

'Um.. yeah, sure, ok... If you'd like to.'

'I'd like to.'

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**Thanks for reading! If you fancy a glimpse into a London comprehensive school circa early 1990s, I've pinned an episode of Grange Hill over on my scribbling nellie pinterest. I've made Molly about 15, and taken a few liberties with other character ages. But Greg's still the handsome older guy!**


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